By the time we dock and return to the house, Leo is barely awake enough for his bath before dinner. I'm tucking him into bed when Ethan appears in the doorway, freshly showered and changed for dinner.

"Story?" Leo mumbles sleepily, fighting to keep his eyes open.


"One short one," I agree, reaching for his favorite book.

"Can Daddy read it?" Leo asks, surprising both of us. "He does the pirate voice better."

Ethan's expression softens as he moves to sit on the edge of the bed. "I'd be honored, First Mate," he says, accepting the book from my hands, our fingers brushing in a contact that feels significant despite its brevity.


I watch from the doorway as Ethan reads, complete with different voices for each character and dramatic pauses that make Leo giggle despite his exhaustion. By the third page, Leo is sound asleep, but Ethan finishes the story anyway, his voice dropping to a gentle murmur that tugs at something deep in my chest.

When he finally closes the book and carefully extracts himself from the bed, there's a vulnerability in his expression I've rarely seen—a mixture of wonder and gratitude at this simple moment of fatherhood.


"He's amazing," Ethan whispers as we leave Leo's room together. "Every day I discover something new about him that blows me away."

"He feels the same about you," I reply honestly. "You've become his hero in record time."

Ethan looks genuinely moved by this. "I'm trying to be worthy of that."

"You already are," I assure him, the words coming easily because they're true.

His eyes meet mine, intense and searching. "Olivia," he begins, then stops as his phone buzzes insistently in his pocket. With an apologetic grimace, he checks the screen. "It's the Tokyo office. I need to take this—crisis with the Nakamura merger."

"Go," I urge him. "I'll tell your mother you'll be down for dinner shortly."

As Ethan disappears into his room, already speaking rapid-fire Japanese into his phone, I head downstairs with mixed emotions. The weekend has been idyllic—a glimpse of what family life with Ethan could be like if circumstances were different. But they aren't different. I'm still Olivia Morgan, returned from exile to reclaim what was stolen from me, and Ethan is still unaware of my true identity and purpose.

The growing feelings between us—the kisses, the shared confidences, the domestic intimacy—complicate everything. Because the closer we become, the more devastating the eventual truth will be.

Vivienne is already on the terrace with a glass of wine when I join her. "Leo asleep?" she asks.

"Out like a light," I confirm. "Ethan's on a business call but should join us soon."

"The Tokyo merger," Vivienne nods knowingly. "Jonathan's been trying to sabotage it because it wasn't his idea originally. He still has allies on the board who listen to him despite his retirement."

The casual revelation of Knight family business politics reminds me that beneath the sailing and bedtime stories, Ethan operates in a world as complex and potentially treacherous as my own.

"That must be difficult for Ethan," I observe, accepting the glass of wine she offers.

"He handles it better than most would," Vivienne says with evident pride. "Jonathan underestimates him—always has. It's his greatest mistake as both a businessman and a father."

Before I can respond, my own phone buzzes with a text. It's from Marcus: "Urgent update. Call when you can speak privately."

A chill runs through me despite the warm evening. Marcus wouldn't interrupt my weekend unless something significant had developed.

"Excuse me," I say to Vivienne. "I need to take this."

I find a quiet spot in the garden, far enough from the house for privacy, and call Marcus immediately.

"What's happened?" I ask without preamble.

"Nathaniel Pierce is back from Chicago," Marcus reports. "He met with Cassandra last night. My source inside Morgan Group says they're planning something involving Leo."

My blood runs cold. "What exactly?"

"Nothing specific yet, but they mentioned using him to 'apply pressure' on both you and Ethan. I've increased security on our end, but I thought you should know immediately."

"Thank you," I say, my mind already racing through contingencies. "Keep me updated on any developments. And Marcus... make sure the Singapore office is secure. All records, all personnel. They're digging into my past there."

After ending the call, I stand motionless in the garden, the peaceful weekend suddenly shattered by this reminder of the real world waiting beyond the Knight family estate. Cassandra and Nathaniel targeting Leo—my son, my vulnerable point—is a line crossed that I cannot ignore.

"Everything alright?"

I turn to find Ethan approaching, his expression concerned. He's changed for dinner, elegant in casual linen pants and a light sweater that emphasizes his athletic build.

"Fine," I lie automatically. "Just a work issue."

Ethan studies me, clearly not believing my dismissal. "The same 'work issue' that had you taking mysterious calls at three in the morning earlier this week?"

His perception catches me off guard. I hadn't realized he'd noticed those late-night communications with Marcus about Nathaniel's activities in Singapore.

"It's complicated," I say, falling back on my standard deflection.

"So you keep saying," Ethan replies, a hint of frustration entering his voice. "Olivia, whatever is going on—whatever you're dealing with—you don't have to handle it alone anymore. That's part of what marriage means, even one that started like ours."

The sincerity in his voice nearly breaks my resolve. How simple it would be to tell him everything—about my true identity, about Cassandra's betrayal, about my mother's murder. To share the burden I've carried alone for five years.

But I can't. Not yet. Not until I'm certain of his reaction, of where his loyalties would lie if forced to choose between me and the business world he's part of. Not until I know whether the growing feelings between us are strong enough to withstand the truth.

"I appreciate that," I say carefully. "But some things I need to handle myself."

Disappointment flickers across his face. "I thought after last night... after this weekend... things had changed between us."

"They have," I admit, because denying it would be both futile and dishonest. "But that doesn't mean I can suddenly share every aspect of my life with you."

"Why not?" he challenges, stepping closer. "What are you so afraid of, Olivia?"

The question hits too close to home—what am I afraid of? Losing this newfound happiness? Having my revenge derailed by emotional entanglements? Or something deeper—the fear that once Ethan knows the full truth, he'll look at me differently, see me as damaged or deceitful rather than the strong, composed woman he's come to admire?

"It's not about fear," I counter, though we both know that's not entirely true. "It's about boundaries. About maintaining some independence even within this relationship."

"Relationship," Ethan echoes, seizing on the word. "So you acknowledge that's what this is now? Not just an arrangement for Leo's sake?"

I meet his gaze directly, knowing I owe him at least this much honesty. "Yes. It's... becoming something more. But that doesn't mean I'm ready to share everything."

Ethan considers this, his expression softening slightly. "Fair enough. I can respect your boundaries, Olivia. But I need you to understand something." He steps closer, close enough that I can feel the warmth radiating from his body. "Whatever you're dealing with—whatever secrets you're keeping—they won't change how I feel about you. About us."

The declaration, so confident and absolute, makes my heart ache with its impossibility. He can't know that, can't promise that, without knowing what he's promising to accept.

"You can't be sure of that," I say quietly.

"I am," he insists, reaching up to cup my face gently. "Because I know who you are now—the woman who raises our son with fierce love and protection, who navigates business and society with intelligence and grace, who challenges me in ways no one else ever has. Whatever came before, whatever shaped you into this woman—it's part of what makes you who you are. And who you are is someone I'm falling in love with."

The words hang between us, momentous and terrifying. Love—the one complication I never anticipated when I orchestrated our meeting, when I agreed to this marriage of convenience.

"Ethan," I begin, not knowing how to respond to such a declaration.

"You don't have to say it back," he interrupts gently. "I don't expect you to be in the same place I am. I just wanted you to know where I stand. The rest is up to you, in your own time."

Before I can formulate a response, Vivienne calls from the terrace that dinner is ready. The moment breaks, but Ethan's words linger between us as we walk back to the house together, his hand finding mine in a gesture that feels both supportive and possessive.

Dinner passes in a blur of excellent food and pleasant conversation, though I'm only partially present, my mind divided between Ethan's declaration of love and Marcus's warning about Cassandra and Nathaniel targeting Leo. Two worlds colliding—the revenge that has driven me for five years and the unexpected happiness I've found in this arranged family.

Later, after Vivienne retires for the night, Ethan and I find ourselves alone on the terrace, the sound of waves breaking on the beach below us and stars scattered across the velvet sky.

"I'm sorry if I overwhelmed you earlier," Ethan says, breaking the comfortable silence. "That wasn't my intention."

"You didn't," I assure him, though it's not entirely true. His declaration had overwhelmed me, but not in the way he thinks. "I'm just... processing."

"Take all the time you need," he says, reaching across the space between our chairs to take my hand. "I'm not going anywhere."

The simple promise touches me deeply—this man who has known nothing but achievement and forward momentum his entire life, willing to wait for me to catch up to his emotional certainty.

"Thank you," I say softly, squeezing his hand. "For understanding. For not pushing."

"I've learned that the best things are worth waiting for," he replies with a small smile. "And you, Olivia, are definitely worth waiting for."

The moment stretches between us, filled with possibility. Then, making a decision that feels both reckless and inevitable, I stand and tug gently on his hand.

"Come to bed," I say simply.

Ethan rises, his eyes darkening with desire, but he hesitates. "Are you sure? After our conversation earlier..."

"I'm sure about this," I reply honestly. "About us, tonight. The rest... we'll figure out as we go."

It's enough for him. With a nod, he follows me inside and up the stairs to my suite, our fingers still intertwined, the decision made.

What follows is unlike anything I've experienced before—not just physically, though Ethan's attentiveness as a lover matches his confidence in the boardroom—but emotionally. There's a connection between us that transcends the physical, a recognition of something rare and precious developing despite the complicated circumstances that brought us together.

Afterward, lying in his arms with my head on his chest, listening to his heartbeat slow to normal, I feel a sense of peace that has eluded me for five years. For these moments, at least, revenge and secrets and complicated pasts don't matter. There is only this—Ethan's warmth, his gentle fingers tracing patterns on my bare shoulder, the feeling of being truly seen and desired for exactly who I am in this moment.

"You're thinking too loudly," Ethan murmurs, pressing a kiss to my forehead.

I smile against his skin. "Just processing."

"Good thoughts, I hope?" There's a hint of vulnerability in the question that endears him to me even more.

"Very good," I assure him, tilting my face up for a proper kiss.

He obliges, his lips gentle against mine. "I meant what I said earlier," he says when we part. "About falling in love with you. I wasn't just saying it in the heat of the moment."

I study his face in the moonlight filtering through the windows—the sincerity in his eyes, the slight tension in his jaw as he awaits my response. And in that moment, I make another decision that feels both terrifying and right.

"I'm falling in love with you too," I admit softly. "And it scares me more than anything has in a very long time."

Relief and joy transform his expression. "We can be scared together," he offers, pulling me closer. "Figure it out as we go, like you said."

As I drift toward sleep in his arms, I allow myself to imagine a future where this is my reality—loving Ethan, raising Leo together, building a life based on genuine connection rather than strategic advantage. A future where revenge gives way to reconciliation, where the past loses its power to define my choices.

But even in this moment of contentment, a small voice in the back of my mind whispers a warning: Cassandra and Nathaniel are still out there, still plotting. And now they're targeting not just me, but Leo—the one person in this world I would sacrifice everything to protect.

The game has changed, the stakes raised. And soon I'll have to make a choice between the revenge I've planned for five years and the love I never expected to find.